Angel of Music
by Elmo99
Summary: A heart can be broken beyond repair, but as long as you have a soul; you will love and be loved.


Disclaimer- I do not own any of the JK Rowling characters or places. I am the hopeless plot righter. Copyrighters will be proscuted in a court of law**.**

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**_A heart can be broken beyond repair, but as long as you have a soul; you will love and be loved._**

**__****_Eleanor Connelly._**

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Seeing her at the final battle, her heart shattering as the chosen one bled to death in her arms. He had seen her fight, like a wild cat she was with her scarlet mane flying around her.

Watching her as the muggleborns were tortured until then begged for death then dispenesed like rubbish, including her best friend; Miss Granger. The spark that always seemed to infuse her eyes with a joy that infected others just by being in proximity with her was dead. She was crushed like a delicate flower.

When the blood-traiters were brought to be tortured till they swore obedience to Lord Voldemort he saw her fighting against them, Harry Potter still clutched in her embrace. Finally they tore her away and had their fun with the corpse. The Death-Eaters who happened to enjoy gay coupling had lots of fun with his body. It was sickening.

When she was brought forward and tortured she didn't make a sound, they went on for minutes but she refused to crack. "It seems you will have to be broken into your new way of life Miss Weasley; I know only one Deatheater worthy enough for this task."

Oh Crap.

"Severus?"

I moved forward, like I had a choice. Voldemort presented the girl to me like candy to a toddler. I showed sufficient gratitute anf apperated us both to Snape manor.

She refused to talk to me. She morned the losses of the battle in silence for months. Most grievious the loss of her love Harry Potter.

I remember she used to sing. Sweet music that would warm you from the inside out, or freeze you like ice. Draco had fantasized to him about that voice, but now she was silent. A living statue.

So much of her time she spent writing. Hours and hours; dawn till dusk, pouring over parchement.

Sometimes I would sit with her and on those occations she would set aside her pen and paper to stare at me as if waiting for something. Soon I began to talk to her, finding her silence both soothing and infuriating.

I poured my heart out to this quiet beauty, I would not say she did not feel because her constantly red-rimmed eyes contradicted it; But she never cried in public. Always in private.

Over a year passed and we had made a friendship of sorts; lopsided though it was.

She finally stopped her mourning and began to grow more beautiful by the day. I hadn't noticed the perfect mocha brown of her eyes or the dancing fire of her hair.

Nor the flawless white skin, sprinkled with freckles.

Just over a year and a half after coming to the manor, she smiled. I'm not sure what I had done but suddenly she was beaming at me, her radiant face like the sun itself.

She rarely cried at all now and was becoming brilliant creature, a woman now.

I didn't know her birthday but she had mysteriously known mine for she gave me a present; A portrate of myself that she had drawn. It had great likeness and I hung it in the library.

I slowly came to realize that I loved this girl. Silent and mysterious she knew more about him then anyone, and it seemd, understood him. Forgave him the sins of his past.

On a cold winter day I found her walking among the frosted trees, looking like a fallen angel; Only clad in a spaggeti strapped white dress.

I took off my cloak and placed it around her slender shoulders earning myself a one of the blinding smiles that made her look carefree.

Turning her face around tp mine and pressed my lips to hers. They responded to my vigor with equal enthusiasum and we broke away breathless.

She looked shocked at her own reaction to me. I couldn't blame her, I had been her greasy haired potions master for six years and now I was her equallt greasy haired admirer.

Slowly she walked away, back to the manor. I followed slowly; The sound of a piano called me to the library.

I stopped in the doorway to see her at the stool with the music she had been labouring over all this time.

The tune was gentle like a lullaby and shocking me to the deepest nerve, Ginerva began to sing.

_You see all but my sorrows,_  
_Always alone have you been._  
_Did my solitude remind you of somthing,_  
_Inside you forgotton unseen?_

_My heart on the table,_  
_Now I cannot hide._  
_From what I know is there,_  
_deep inside._

_Broken I was,_  
_Thought beyond repair._  
_From the losses I suffered,_  
_The loves that I lost._

_But your home gave me refuge,_  
_Your voice gave me joy._  
_And the heart once broken,_  
_Beats once more._

_As my soul cries for you,_  
_My lips hold their silence._  
_Till now I can say,_  
_I love you._

Slowly she turned, "I love you." It was those three little words that had me taking her into my arms and kissing her till the world swam around us.

And I swore to myself, I would never let her go.

Till death do us part, My Angel of Music.

Author's Note: Love, hate? Review! Suggestions for new stories welcome! :l)


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